


Harmony

by ButterFlyEffect



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Cheesy, F/M, Fluff, Harmony - Freeform, Melody - Freeform, Music, Piano, Reader Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5046748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterFlyEffect/pseuds/ButterFlyEffect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harmony (noun): the combination of simultaneously sounded musical notes to produce a pleasing effect.</p>
<p>(Elliot Nightray X Reader)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harmony

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my friend from Twitter, YoureMyMiracleElliot who is the most dedicated fangirl I have ever met. I hope it's not too cheesy! :'D

You had never liked parties. They were stuffy, dull and much to formal for your liking, and yet due to being the descendant of a noble family your father dictated that you should attend when invited, be polite and perhaps even find a suitor. For this reason you would always dread the sealed letters that arrived every few months.

You would be stuffed into some stiff uncomfortable gown, be forced to socialise and would be required to dance with possible suitors. Which was the situation you currently found yourself in at the annual event the Nightray family, an old ally of your fathers, always held.

You had learned to dread these occasions especially. They were always overly formal and many of the guests gave you the creeps, though you could never pinpoint why.

Occasionally you would converse with the two adopted Nightray brothers, but Vincent always made you uncomfortable for some reason and Gilbert looked almost as uncomfortable as you were. Apart from anything else, your father had never approved of your friendship with Gilbert. That was, even if it could really be called a friendship. Honestly it felt more like the two of you were on the same sinking ship and were bonding over your mutual pain. You had never met the third brother, which was odd now that you thought about it, as you had been here so many times.

This time around you were standing by yourself at the edge of the room, watching the dancers waltz around the place under the magnificent lights of the hall and waving off any offers to join them. Halfway through though the second dance however, a noise caught your attention. It was faint and almost drowned out by the more immediate sounds, but it was definitely there.

You realised it was someone playing a song on a piano. You strained to listen to it. It was hopeful yet sad, filled with a kind of violence and uncertainty and yet oddly comforting.

You looked around at the others guests, but none of them appeared to have noticed the sound. They were busy conversing with each other, clinking glasses or dancing. You however became curious. Something about the song drew you towards the source. A kind of melancholy nostalgia.

With a final glance back at the main hall, you cracked open one of the side doors and slipped through into an empty hallway. Doors lined the sides of the hallway and there was the scent of dust and darkness in the air. Carefully you slid out one of the candles from the candleholders along the wall and held it in your hands to illuminate the dim passage, waiting for your eyes to adjust. The music was stronger here, cutting through the darkness with a gentle firmness. Like a moth to a candle you were drawn down the corridor the the source of the sound.

The further along you walked, the louder the music became until it seemed to drown out everything else. In a trance you reached a door at the end of the corridor and opened it quietly without a moments hesitation. At that moment you had to find the source of the music no matter what.

The room itself was a shock to your eyes after the darkness of the corridor and you blinked as you were temporarily blinded by the light.

After a moment you eyes began to adjust and you looked more closely at your surroundings. You found yourself in a large and magnificent music room. Golden ornaments glittered on the walls and shelves and the whole room was bathed in a warm yellow light. A fire crackled to your right, just below a huge painting of the head of the Nightray family. It was magnificent and detailed and the cold eyes of the subject seemed to follow you in any direction. Quietly you blew out the candle you held and placed in an empty nearby candle holder.

In the centre of the room you finally found the source of the music. You came to a halt and stared, mesmerised. A boy around your own age sat at a grant piano, his fingers dancing nimbly over the keys. He had sandy coloured hair, clipped fairly short in an attempt at neatness, which was in vain as it just seemed to spike up in various directions anyway. His eyes were closed, and he had a solemn expression on his face. His fingers seemed to find the right keys instinctively as though he had playing this song particular song many times over. And no wonder. The music had you in a trance and you closed your eyes.

The song seemed to fill your mind with images of water, violent and chaotic in one moment, still and calm the next. It felt as though you were drowning in the sounds which escaped the piano.

And then, abruptly, the music stopped and your eyes snapped open again to find the boy staring at you. His expression had gone from neutral to a kind of abrasive glare, hard enough that it almost made you wince. His eyes were an icy blue, only adding to his cold expression.

"I, uh, heard the music..." you stammered awkwardly, suddenly recognising the boy from the Nightray family portrait you had seen so many times. He looked older now than he had when the picture was painted, but it was undoubtedly the same person. He scowled slightly.

"Do you always go walking around other people's homes uninvited?" he asked bluntly. You blinked.

"Excuse me?" you asked, frowning at him.

He sighed and appeared to reform the words in his head and came out with a slightly forced, but more polite: "The event is down the hall."

"Oh! Oh, yes I know," you answered, flustered. "I'll be going then... but before I do, that song that you were playing... what is it?"

"I wrote it," he explained curtly and turned pointedly back to the keys of the piano.

"Oh," you said, not quite sure how to respond. "Could you... could you play it again? I'll be quiet," you added, swing his dubious expression.

He considered, opened his mouth and hesitated. His fingers twitched on the keys as he weighed his options.

You liked the youngest addition to the Nightray family, you decided. He seemed blunt and grumpy at first glance, but there was something about him that made you feel comfortable, though you couldn't put your finger on what it was. You remembered his name from a previous conversation: Elliot.

"Fine," he answered finally. "You can stay. But don't interrupt."

"I won't," you promised and scooted over to a chair at the side of the room.

He coughed and then muttered: "You can come closer."

You blinked and timidly shuffled over before sitting down next to him on the piano stool. You were close enough that your shoulders were touching, which for some reason made you blush. You were homeschooled and hadn't had many encounters with boys your own age and so you felt stiff and awkward sitting beside him. 

You wondered if it was your imagination but you thought you could feel him tending beside you as well and he looked away momentarily with an embarrassed cough. 

Then he turned back to the keys and began to play. The notes that came from beneath his fingers were beautiful and melodic and almost as soon as he started playing you began to feel nostalgic again. Images flashed through your mind and you closed your eyes and opened your mind, letting the images run through.

You remembered fond memories from your childhood and some scenes you were sure you had never seen before. There was your younger self, sneaking away with some of your mothers home-backed biscuits, then you were faced with a roaring waterfall, splashing violently into a large pool below and a moment later you felt as though you were in a vast open space, standing barefoot on the grass and feeling the wind tugging at your hair. The sensation was over much too soon after what could have been anything from between a heartbeat to several hours and as the music trickled to a halt you opened your eyes and applauded shyly.

"I love it," you decided after a moment. "It's nostalgic, but somehow lonely..."

He looked startled by your comments, his eyes widening a fraction as he turned to look at you.

"Oh sorry! I'm just thinking out loud..." You stammered as his eyes met yours, wondering how silly that might have sounded to him.

"No... it's just... someone said something similar to me once. Do you play?" he asked, sounding a little more open this time around, like he was genuinely curious. You relaxed a little.

"A little bit," you admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "But, you know... not like you can," you added, waving your hands lightly.

"W-well then..." he mumbled after a moment, staring intently down at the keys and refusing to look at you, a blush growing on his face. "Would... would you a-accompany me on the piano?"

You blinked, surprised, processing what he had just asked. Then you smiled brightly just as he managed to look up at you for an answer. 

"I'd like that," you answered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!! (And that everyone was in character...)
> 
> Please feel free to leave your thoughts and suggestions in the comments!! :D


End file.
